


Beautiful

by faithlessone



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithlessone/pseuds/faithlessone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn has been invited to an Orlesian party without the Inquisition. Cullen is not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a scene from Warehouse 13 - 2x04 "Age Before Beauty".

No, this would not do at all. His cursory preliminary scan of the room their Orlesian hostess was laughingly referring to as the “small salon” had identified no less than eight points of entry and exit, and another dozen or so hiding places.

If they had been allowed to bring reinforcements, even just Cassandra or Dorian, he would have been… not happy, but willing, willing to allow her to attend. But no, the invitation had come to Lady Trevelyan, Plus One. Luckily, or so he kept telling himself, Josephine and Leliana had been in no doubt as to whom that plus one was referring.

But no. This would not do. He’d simply have to go and find Evelyn and tell her that she would have to make an excuse. He scanned the huge room one last time, taking in the glass doors and large windows and long flowing curtains. No. Definitely not safe.

He slipped out of the room and headed upstairs to the bedchamber Evelyn had been given for the evening.

“My lady?” he called out, knocking softly on the door. There was no response. He pushed the door open carefully, keeping his eyes on the floor in case she was still indecently attired.

“My lady? Are you ready?”

A soft noise caught his attention, and he looked up.

Maker’s breath.

Evelyn was stood at the mirror, in, well, he assumed it was a dress. It was purple, with some sort of jewelled embellishment around her neck. And it had no back. No back at all. There was more of her skin on show than he had ever seen on any woman who was purporting to be fully dressed.

She turned slowly to face him.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

He was almost speechless, and could only shake his head in response.

“Vivienne picked it. The latest thing, apparently. She says that you have to dress appropriately for every battle. At least we agree on that. Is it time to go down?”

He glanced back down at her dress, more convinced than before that they should leave. He wouldn’t have been entirely happy with her going to the party in her enchanter’s coat, but that, whatever that was, was asking for trouble. Her back was bare, for the Maker’s sake. It was practically begging to be a target for an assassin’s blade.

“I don’t think this party is a good idea,” he said, haltingly. “The room is a security nightmare, and I have a very bad feeling about these Orlesians inviting you as Lady Trevelyan instead of the Inquisitor. With the Inquisition at your back, perhaps, but…”

“Fine,” she interrupted him.

“What?” He was taken aback. He was expecting dispute, to have to argue her down like always. “No fight, no disagreement, no ‘I can take care of myself’?”

She was already slipping off the high-heeled golden shoes. “No, you’re right. And, I’m not going out there if you say I don’t have to.”

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

She smiled, the sort of smile she put on when Josephine needed to be quickly appeased. “Like you said, it’s dangerous.”

He stepped closer. “I say charging into nests of Red Templars without reinforcements is dangerous, and fighting dragons is dangerous, and playing Wicked Grace against Josephine is dangerous, and you never listen to me. What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t go out there, Cullen. Because I can’t… stop an army with a flutter of my eyelashes or make flowers bloom with my smile.”

What?

“I don’t understand.”

“Some girls grow up in the Circle and read books and learn magic and grow up to fight dragons, yes? But all of that?” She waved somewhat haphazardly toward the door, and he understood that the gesture encompassed everything that lay beyond it. “All of that out there? Is not me. I’m not Lady Trevelyan.”

“Why not?”

She looked at the floor, avoiding his confused gaze. “Because I’m not the beautiful one.”

He doesn’t believe that for a second.

“So who’s the beautiful one, if not you?”

A moment passed. “My sister.”

“Sister?”

She looked back up, catching his eye again.

“Sophia. She’s seven years older than me. She was the one who did the dancing lessons and designed her own dresses and had all the boys chasing after her, all the noble men asking for her hand. She could do all that noble lady stuff, stopping armies and making flowers bloom. I was eleven when I went to the Circle, Cullen. I don’t know how to do any of this alone. She’s Lady Trevelyan, not me. She could do this.”

“My lady…” he began. Then tried again. “Evelyn, I…” The words refused to come. She looked up at him, eyes all wide with fear and anxiety and trust and something he couldn’t think about or he would never speak again.

It was no good, he couldn’t do what he needed to do, say what he needed to say while she was looking at him.

“Turn around.”

“Excuse me?”

He knew he was making a mess of this. “I need to tell you something, and I can’t say it while you’re looking at me.”

She frowned, but turned away anyway, looking back toward the mirror. Immediately he realised that this didn’t make it any better. He turned around too, so they were standing back to back. Only when he was looking at the closed door did he manage to pluck up the courage to say what he had been holding inside for so long.

“Evelyn, you are a stunningly beautiful woman. The day that I met you, I thought to myself ‘Maker’s breath, I’m not going to be able to work with her. I won’t… be able to stop staring at her.’ But then, I got to know you, and… I realised that you… you are even more beautiful than I could see. And, if that eleven year old girl could see what a beautiful, strong, brave woman she would become, she would know that… that it is her sister who should be jealous. Because you charge into nests of Red Templars, and fight dragons, and challenge Josephine to card games, and you drive me insane, and all of this while being the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

He heard a muffled sound behind him, but didn’t dare turn around to check on her. He needed to finish saying all of this before he lost his nerve.

“You say you can’t stop an army with a flutter of your eyelashes, but that’s fine, because you’ve stopped armies with a flash of your staff and your fearsome reputation. You say you can’t make flowers bloom with your smile, but I’ve seen your smile calm frightened refugees and crying children, and isn’t that far more useful?”

There might have been more to say, but suddenly he felt her hand on his arm, and he couldn’t bear not to look at her for a single second longer.

“You truly mean all of that?” she asked, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Every word.”

She smiled, a smile that could light all of Thedas on fire with its ferocious light, and nodded.

“Right, you’re right. I can do this.”

She squeezed his arm once, slipped her shoes back on, and then strode confidently past him.

It was only when she had disappeared down the stairs that his mind suddenly cleared.

“Wait! I came here to talk you out of it!”


End file.
